


Birdbrain

by starsareoverrated



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, F/M, Veela Draco Malfoy, post-war fic, sass and sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsareoverrated/pseuds/starsareoverrated
Summary: Sex and magic unite in this little tale to bring together two stubborn people. Obstinate characters at their snarky best.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108





	Birdbrain

'I don't know what you're up to, Malfoy, but if you don't stop sniffing me like a dog, I'm going to hex you like your father hexed his house-elfs.'

'Hmm.' Draco traced his nose slowly down the side of Hermione's neck, taking great care to catalogue the exact composition of his mate's scent. Her warning was of no consequence, because he knew she always gave into her desires, sooner or later.

As he reached the point where her neck joined with the strong set of her shoulders, he couldn't help but give the soft skin a bite with his blunt teeth. Careful as ever, he kept his Veela teeth sheathed away inside his mouth, sating himself with this imitation of a mating ritual because he knew the real thing was nigh impossible. She inhaled sharply and her hands came up to clutch at his arms, nails digging into his covered flesh.

'Malfoy,' she breathed, 'this is too inappropriate.'

'Propriety makes life dull, Granger,' he mumbled, working his hands down her sides, coming to a rest at the flare of her hips. The ends of her messy curls tickled the back of his palms as he clutched her tighter.

'We're...in your father's office,' she tried to reason, 'which is disrespectful-- not that I care about that, but also--'

'Do shut up, darling,' he whispered, making sure to leave bite marks as his lips travelled the length of her neck, up and down, and then sucked at the side in growing hunger. His Veela was tortured at being so close to his mate and yet unable to truly bond with her, but his human side was rational enough to believe that Granger would never really want something serious with him. She had been more than clear that he was simply a way to burn some stress as she did not much fancy pub-crawling to pick up random men.

Enraged, she pulled back. 'Hold your tongue. I've had enough of your impudence in school and I don't want to deal with it again.'

'My tongue could be put to better use,' he shrugged, tickling her waist. 

She squirmed, but stepped back further. 'You might think I don't know, but I am well aware of how little you respect me. You can barely keep from mouthing off in the middle of snogging me and I don't like it very much.'

'So what are you saying?' he asked, taking a step towards her. 'You don't want me anymore?'

Tilting her chin high, she responded, 'Lust is not a driving factor in my life.'

'Neither is it in mine,' he told her.

She scoffed, tugging back some of her poofy hair. 'The Prophet tells another story.'

Staring at her, he saw the frustration running under her delectable skin and wondered for the first time that evening how he had missed it completely. 'You know better than anyone that that paper is a joke. Why-- anything you know about me from there is a lie.'

'That's the thing,' she said, voice heavy, 'I don't know you much at all. And the prophet may fabricate events but they can't engineer pictures.'

He swallowed. He didn't understand what she wanted. They were purely physical, weren't they? Why would she be bothered by pictures of Astoria Greengrass or Tracey Davies or Lisa Turpin throwing themselves at him?

'Well? Don't you have something to say?'

'What is it you want to hear?' he sneered, and so subtly that he would've missed it had he not been so fixated on her face, she flinched. He was an idiot, though, so continued, 'That I fuck other women? That I date them and ditch them but not before taking what they're freely giving?'

She turned without another word, shoulders visibly shaking. He should have stopped her, but as we have determined, he was an idiot.

  
  
  
  


This thing of his with Granger had actually started in Hogwarts itself. Though they hadn't had sex when in school, they had certainly had enough intense moments to suitably intrigue him. He had already decided to ignore his Veela side, knowing full well who his mate was, but the fallible human within him had still been attracted to Granger.

When they both had run into each other at Fortescue's one afternoon after their eighth year, they'd gotten to talking and he had had one hit of her unique scent before both were declaring their snarky but honest wish to see the other again

The thing they did least when they met up next, and all the times after that, was talking. Sex, sex, sex, and more sex. That was their pattern and Draco's Veela persona was slaked a bit by the physical closeness of his mate and the fact that she desired him almost as much as he desired her.

It was not long before he started wanting more than her body. When she stroked him with her small, calloused hands, he would marvel at the heat under her skin. The brush of her hair against his face or bare chest would evoke tender feelings inside his heart, making it feel like he had sustained a bruise in him somewhere that kept getting poked. Her perfume, the taste of butterbeer in her mouth, soft, butterfly kisses across his brow would leave him wanting more of her heart, as slowly but surely, she stole his.

The Veela inside him roared for more, often leading to Draco staying at home for days on end. He would sit in a corner of his bedroom and rock back and forth as his mother looked on in increasing worry. 

Months passed, and his encounters with Hermione continued. She gave him her body and he tried to force his empty heart to feel like it was being loved in return, but since she had made no overtures toward him, he could no sooner lie to himself than he could confront his parents to allow him to court Granger, and not the Pureblood throng they kept flinging at him.

He had never been faced with the fact that his humoring of his parents' choice of candidates for the post of future Lady Malfoy would be bothering Granger in so visceral a manner that she would confront him about it. Not only that, but for the first time in months-- ever since their trysts had begun-- this was the week that she denied him.

The pain was first. It spread from beneath his breastbone and radiated out to the tips of his fingers, numbing his legs and flooding his body with flashes of intense prickling sensations and complete nothingness. After a long time (or what felt as such) he could-- in periphery-- recognize the darkness cloaking his vision to be a sign that he wasn't breathing enough. 

On the verge of passing out, he could make out the door of his father's office opening again. He could barely see, but his sense of smell was fully functional and thus he knew the woman holding him. She was the one he wished would keep him in the cage of her arms always. 

Hermione. She had come back.

It was blissful when he actually did pass out, the details of her face blurred as she kneeled next to him, saying something he couldn't hear.

  
  
  


'Arse.'

Draco opened his heavy eyes slowly. This was not his bedroom. Too bland. 

He turned to his right and stilled. There, looking like she could beat him up, was the summer of his heart.

'Abusing a patient?' he teased. 

'Nothing's wrong with you,' she said, 'except your undisclosed condition.' 

'Too smart for your own good,' he said wryly. 'Well, what can I say? My mama's a bird?'

'Or your daddy.'

'Ugh. No. I think it's only the females who're blonde,' he told her, waggling his eyebrows.

'Have you got something to tell me?' she asked, leaning forward in the uncomfortable hospital chair.

'Like what? I'm a bird too?' He didn't know why he was being so flippant about his more animalistic heritage, but something compelled him to be cognizant of the gleam in Granger's eyes which looked to be far too crazed. 'How did you know?'

'You spouted feathers.' Her mouth twitched. 'A beak, too. I wanted to take a picture-- you went _so_ ugly.'

He glared at her as he tried to ignore the throbbing of his head. 'You know I didn't. I am not a full...'

'Veela?' she suggested, sardonic but oddly bitter. 'Or would you prefer half-breed?'

'Do not call me that,' he said, only half-hearted in his anger. Bantering with his lovely mate was one of his favourite pastimes, his only complaint being that he couldn't do it more often as they both had very different jobs. He was a Potions researcher and advisor in partnership with his family company while being the owner of half a dozen apothecaries in magical Britain.

She, however...

'So, what's my diagnosis?'

Huffing, Granger pulled a muggle pen from behind her ear and started perusing the file she had on her lap. 'Nothing, as I originally said, your highness. You might want to take it slow, though.'

He sent her an enquiring look. 

Still looking down, she continued, 'Until you find your mate, your body will feel a heightened state of emergency at all times, making you more prone to fatigue, hence sapping your magical reserves. This might lead to a delay in actually claiming your mate which could be potentially fatal.'

Her voice had been entirely monotonous, dead like a burnt out bird. He felt a deep sense of foreboding when she refused to meet his piercing gaze.

'I know who she is,' he said, hoping to trick her into asking him so he could orchestrate the big reveal. 

Frivolous physical relationship or not, he had been entirely monogamous in his casual pursuit of her, making the whole process more serious than had been intended originally. As it was, he was more interested in knowing the depth of her regard for him, which, as he had seen from their latest fight (and his insensitive handling of said fight) was more than he had suspected.

She shrugged, face wan and drawn. 'I don't care to know.'

'Wouldn't you be bothered if it wasn't you?'

'You're talking about it like it matters-- it doesn't. I know I am not.' Entirely set on her conclusion, she had reverted to being the slightly underconfident, closed-off girl that she had been at the outset of their mutual indulgence of base desires.

'Whyever would you think that? I haven't been with anyone but you since we--'

'Well, then, how could you control your desire to mark me? You've kissed and sucked and bit my neck, but never have you drawn blood. A Veela wouldn't have been able to hold off,' she retorted, the academician in her apparent.

'Well, it's a good thing I'm not an actual ugly bird. I'm only half of one,' he said loudly, hoping to knock some of her crass logic back into her brain.

'I...didn't think of it that way,' she admitted, a stunned expression crossing her face, lighting up her tired eyes.

'Smartest Witch, my arse.'

'I did call you one.' She fidgeted for some time with her Healers' robe, biting her full lower lip. 'Since when have you known?'

He actually flinched, but decided to hedge. 'Since when have you liked me? Apart from my undeniable bedroom presence, of course.'

She narrowed her eyes. 'That is irrelevant, but probably around the time we snogged at the Ministry Ball. Your turn, and don't you counter-question me.'

He knew she would be mad, so he leaned up on one elbow and tugged her closer. Bridging the distance between their mouths, he dived right in. Tongue in her mouth and hand fisted around her hair, he moved his lips in a hungry, devouring kiss that left him breathless as much as it was meant to dazzle her.

Keeping close and resting his forehead against hers and with her flavor on his tongue, he said, 'Since our eighth year.'

She kept silent, eyes crossed slightly as she met his. 'Bird brain.'

He shook his head. 'I know.'

'So, when are we going to tell Narcissa?'

'Uhh...tonight,' he said, making a promise to himself as well.

'Don't you back out of this,' she warned and kissed him again. He purred, feeling his fangs elongate and for once, he didn't pull back and instead let her feel the sharp points with her tongue. 'That would take some getting used to.'

'I promise I won't,' he grinned, mouth lopsided, 'and that I won't mark you before you're ready.'

'Then _you_ better be ready, because I think tonight after meeting your mother would be as fine a time as any, don't you think?'

However nervous he felt, he would never deny her anything. 'Okay, I...I--'

She smiled, putting a finger over his lips. 'I know, and I feel the same.'

It was an eventful evening, to say the least.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
